


Exigency

by Attasee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: HurtMycroft, M/M, Mycroftissodramatic, argument, comfort/hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22833160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: Meaning:1. An urgent requirement; a pressing need:2. A pressing or urgent situation:3. A situation calling for immediate action or attention
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	Exigency

**Author's Note:**

> As a accompaniment to this fic go listen to Harry Styles’ Falling. You’ll thank me.

He takes to his bed, pulling the covers hard around him to block out the word. He had woke as normal except this time Gregory had not been there, the remnants of their argument lingering in the airwaves ready to settle a last and final time.

There’s no one else to blame but him. The single glass of whiskey – or maybe more – that had caused the cross wires, had caused the words that cut so harsh, words that he cant take back and unpack, words that hurt and severed ties he wanted so much to be solid, is still sat there - it’s contents haunting him.

It a mess.

A utterly devastating mess.

He knows it’s not the whiskey’s fault.

It’s his, his ego, his head, his pride, his prejudice.

Just him.

He had planned to work today. He’d planned to speak to the foreign minister about China and its links to Russia then take Gregory lunch from his favourite coffee shop but he can’t. Instead he tightens the duvet around his suited body. His waistcoat is pulled so tight it hurts but he refuses to straighten it, he just can’t.

He wants to be uncomfortable and unable to breathe.

He knows it’s over this time.

He knows that Gregory won’t forgive or want him around anymore. He knows Gregory won’t speak of Mycroft again, wont need him again and that scares him so bloody much. The thought repeatedly strikes at his heart throughout the day and sending his pulse racing leaving behind a thundering that rattles his bones.

For a brief moment he can’t breathe or pull any air into his lungs.

He didn’t mean it.

Hadn’t meant it.

None of it.

Not one single word he had said…

There will be no one else after this.

No one will want to be around a worn out, broken civil servant.

Mycroft isn’t sure he even wants to be around himself anymore.

Not after this.

He doesn’t eat, skips lunch and only unfolds himself from his bedding for a brief toilet trip. He’s dehydrated and his body aches. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the way back to his bed and the reflection makes him whimper in horror. He lost the waistcoat to the bathroom floor, along with his shoes and any sense of dignity he had. He doesn’t care though.

They’d ran out of things to say to one another by day break.

Maybe it was for the best.

Maybe.

By evening he has moved to the sofa. He’s still wearing his dress shirt but now his tie is loose and pulled to the side, his trousers are creased and sweaty.

There’s no else to blame that Gregory’s gone, only him.

He’s down.

He’s out.

He’s falling.

He types out text to Gregory to go with all the rest he hasn’t sent that day.

**I’m sorry. M.**

**Babe, I’ll be home at 11pm**

**I have Chinese. We can watch Die Hard & talk.**

**Love you. G xx**


End file.
